Merry Christmas
by aThingwithWings
Summary: It's the first Christmas since the Winter War, and Ichigo can't handle things at home. He leaves, searching for relief, and finds a little more than he bargained for. IchixRuki


So, here it is; my first ever upload. Very shot, cuz I did it in a day. In case you couldn't guess from the title, it's a Christmas oneshot, centering around IchiRuki. Don't expect much, okay? They will get better as I go along. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Yes, for all you who are wondering, I am really Tite Kubo, and this scene will appear in the season following the Arrancar Arch. Gotcha! no, bleach and all associated characters belong to someone else, most definitely not me.

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**Merry Christmas **

Ichigo hated Christmas.

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Icy snow crunched under his feet, emphasizing his angry steps. Why does my family have to be so unbearably dysfunctional? He thought to himself as he made his way down the street. Without his mom, family holidays like this were a disaster. It was almost painful to watch his dad and sisters act like everything was normal, like nothing had ever changed.

At least this year, Rukia was here to ease some of the abnormality.

Ichigo kicked a rock, watching it skitter across the icy pavement. This year was harder, though, seeing as it is the first Christmas after the Winter War. He kicked another rock. The nightmares made it hard to sleep, hard to live. And now, his family acting as if nothing had happened; it was too much.

Ichigo was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the old man until he had almost knocked him over.

"Sorry," he mumbled, helping the old man regain his feet. Dusting himself off, he gave Ichigo a large smile, white teeth reflecting the moonlight.

"Oh, no problem, my dear boy!" he said jovially. The man began to walk away, then, as if remembering something he forgot, he turned back to Ichigo. "Ah, I seem to have lost my way. Could you lead me to the train station?"

With nothing better to do, Ichigo shrugged. "Sure." He set off at a slow walk, making sure that the man was keeping up.

Snow started to fall; small, white flakes that melted as soon as they hit the ground. The old man stared in wonder at the sky. Sticking his tongue out, he attempted to catch one, acting like a child. Ichigo gawked at him. A full-grown man, complete with grey hair and a beard, was acting like a four year-old.

After having caught one, the man turned his head sideways to look at Ichigo, his grey eyes bright and his cheeks tinged with red. "I love Christmas," he told Ichigo.

"Yeah, me, not so much," Ichigo whispered to himself.

The old man stopped, confused. "What are you doing out, on Christmas Eve, no less? Should you not be at home, with family, friends, someone you love?"

Laughing dryly, Ichigo kept walking, causing the old man to quicken his step to catch up. "Me? Listen, if you knew my family, you'd understand why I'm not at home."

The man nodded knowingly. "A dysfunctional family? I guess you could say I had one of those to." He sighed, remembering. "My mother had me when she was barely fifteen, betrothed to a man twice almost twice her age, and he wasn't the father." Ichigo listened, somewhat amazed that this stranger was telling him these things. "When we were older," the man continued," my brothers all thought I was crazy. My whole hometown disowned me. How's that for dysfunctional?" Breathing out a stream of cloudy air, he turned to Ichigo. "How about you?"

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, then closed it abruptly. Who was this man, that he should tell him anything about his family?

"I see," the man said sadly. "This world has turned on you, making it impossible to bare anything, for fear of being hurt." He sighed. "You don't have to tell me anything."

Ichigo could see that the old man had been hurt be his decision to not say anything. "Who are you, that I should tell you anything?" he asked, angry at what the man expected of him.

"Oh, no one of consequence," he said. "Someone trustworthy; I've never let anyone down."

Ichigo hunched his shoulders against the growing cold. What could it hurt, to tell this old man just a few things; he did not have to tell him everything. He took a deep breath of the chill air.

"My mom died, when I was young," he began, only planning on telling the man the main points of his family's dysfunctionality. But, before he knew it, he was spilling everything to this stranger, leaving out only the parts about being a shinigami. Everything was brought to light, his fears, his hopes, what it was that made him angry. The old man was silent throughout the whole thing, just listening.

When Ichigo had finally finished, he almost collapsed, feeling empty. He was shocked and angered with himself for having done that, wondering what it was that had compelled him to do such a thing. He felt like a shell of what he had been, all the emotions, the secrets gone.

The man broke the silence first.

"I realize that there are things you haven't told me, but I won't dig them out of you." Ichigo looked at him, barely registering that he knew of his other secrets, just relieved that he wouldn't make him share those as well. "I understand your frustration at your family. It's impossible to go through what you did and come out the other end completely fine. Some wounds never heal; but have you ever thought that maybe you're not the only one with scars?"

Ichigo stopped walking. The man was right; Yuzu, Karin, his dad, Rukia. They all had scars, he was just too focused on his own to notice.

"And you might want to rethink your thoughts on love as well; sometimes we think it's far away, when really it's right before us." The man continued walking, leaving Ichigo to think on what he said.

"Who are you?" Ichigo managed to say, his thoughts jumbled and his mind racing.

The man stopped, turned, and stared at him, completely serious. "To most everyone, I am no one, I am hated. But to others, to the few who recognize and know me, well, I am Father." He smiled, the gravity of the moment gone. "Now hurry up, Ichigo. Christmas is a time for healing, for rebirth, and," the man's gaze turned to something behind Ichigo. "It might come sooner than you expect."

Ichigo turned around, slightly bewildered. Down the road, a person was running towards him. As the figure came closer, he saw who it was.

"Rukia..?" he whispered.

"Ichigo!" Rukia's voice carried across the snow laden air, filled with a mixture of relief and worry. She slid to a stop shortly before she reached Ichigo, shivering in the cold air. "Ichigo, what're you doing?" Her breath came in short, quick puffs, the air biting her nose and lungs.

"I was talking to..." He turned around. The man was gone. Vanished. "There was just-" he turned around just in time for Rukia to lunge at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. A single tear made its way down her cheek, mingling with the fallen snow.

"Don't ever do that again!" She yelled at a quite confused and perplexed Ichigo. "Don't ever leave like that ever again!" she said, quieter now. Another tear joined the previous one.

"What-?"Thoroughly bewildered, Ichigo peeled Rukia off his chest, holding her at arm's length so could look her in the face. Which gave Rukia enough room to punch him in the gut.

"Baka!" she reprimanded him. "Don't 'What' me! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Unshed tears made her eyes shine in the moonlight as she glared at him. "Just walking out without saying anything, leaving your sisters wondering what they did wrong, your dad crying out to your dead mother, and me-" Her voice was a whisper. Anger flashing in her eyes, she kicked him in the shins. Ichigo winced in pain, but knew he deserved it all, and more. Once again, he had acted like an idiot, forgetting what the others were feeling.

"And me, you just left me," Rukia's voice failed her as she relived his desertion. "Everyone I've ever gotten close to has left me; Kaien…Renji. I just-" She stopped, unable to go on.

"You just what?" Ichigo asked quietly, finally understanding the extent of the damage he had caused.

"I just thought that maybe you were different!" Rukia looked at him, her eyes filled with unspeakable sadness. "You are the one constant in my life, Ichigo. You're the only one I can trust, the only one who I know will never leave. At least you were."

Ichigo felt like his world was crashing. He had let her down. He had let his best friend, his comrade-in-arms, his closest confidant, down. Suddenly, what the old man said finally made sense.

Abruptly, he pulled Rukia into his arms, embracing her tightly. Her body stiffened, unsure what to make of this sudden gesture.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Baka," Rukia replied, letting herself relax, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Yeah, I know. I'm the most idiotic, moronic, jackass on the face of the planet for hurting those dearest to me, and," his voice softened, and he held Rukia closer to him, "for being blind to what's in front of me."

Rukia's arms snaked around his back, gripping his shirt as if her life depended on it. "Ichigo, please, don't ever leave me," she whispered into his chest, another tear falling.

Over her shoulder, Ichigo saw the old man, who winked at him and gave him a smile that said "Told you so". Smiling back, Ichigo held Rukia closer.

"Never."

- -

By the time they reached the Kurosaki household, the snow was falling thickly, covering the world in a blanket of white. A purifying, you might say. But I digress.

They walked in the front door together, hand-in-hand. Apparently, Ichigo's father had been anxiously awaiting their arrival.

"Ichigoooo-!" Kurosaki Isshin yelled, attempting to punch his son in the face. Ichigo caught the fist easily, thrusting his knee into Isshin's gut.

"Merry Christmas to you to," he grumbled, wishing his dad was more normal. He stepped farther into the house, Rukia following closely. Karin appeared at the top of the stairs, a red-eyed Yuzu close behind her. Ichigo winced inwardly as he saw the extent of the damage he had caused.

"Ichi-nee?" Karin and Yuzu both looked at him, wondering if he was once again back to normal; at least, as normal as a Kurosaki could be.

Ichigo smiled apologetically at the two. "Merry Christmas."

The twin's eyes lit up, elated to see their big brother returned to his usual self. Yuzu practically ran down the stairs, throwing herself around Ichigo. Karin hung back, making her way slowly down to the happy gathering. She wasn't as naïve as her sister; she knew something had happened between her brother and Rukia. It appeared her dad had to.

"Rukia-chan!" Isshin exclaimed, latching onto her side. "Thank you for bringing our wayward son home!" As he was praising Rukia for her good deed, he secretly was bringing a branch of mistletoe over the heads of the unsuspecting Ichigo and Rukia.

"Oi, Goat-chin!" Karin yelled as she landed a kick to her father's face. Isshin stumbled backward, holding his injured face.

"Well done, my daughter!" he praised, giving her a thumbs up. Karin ignored him, and turned to her sister.

"Yuzu, let's go finish dinner." She practically dragged Yuzu and Isshin into the kitchen, leaving Ichigo and Rukia by themselves. She prayed that spikey-haired oaf wouldn't mess it up.

After the noise and commotion of moments before, the sudden silence was a bit uncomfortable for the two. The walk home had been an interesting one, with much baring-of-the-heart and such, from both parties. Neither was really sure what the other thought of them; the only thing they knew for sure was how right it felt to be near each other.

"Thanks," Ichigo said, finally breaking the silence. "For coming here for Christmas and all, and, for, you know listening and stuff…"

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Baka," she said, promptly kissing him.

They broke away for air, each equally flushed. Ichigo held her face in his hands, running a thumb across her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, midget," he said with a smirk.

Rukia punched him in the gut. "Yeah, you to," she replied, pulling his face down to hers.

Much cheering and celebrating could be heard from the direction of the kitchen.

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So there it is!

for any and all who couldn't guess, the old man was Jesus. Appropriate for a Christmas story (and I'm a Christian).

If you didn't get it, to bad. Make of it what you will, I don't care. Just don't flame; it hurts my soul.

Anyway, more to come, so read and stay tuned!


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